“Poor Sally! You couldn’t trust me? You’d have run away—like that? Without giving me a chance to prove my love for you?” Sally dropped her hands and stared stupidly at her mother. Enid was coming toward her, the newspaper with David’s picture in it rustling against the crisp taffeta of her bouffant skirt. And on Enid’s face was an expression of such sorrowful but loving reproach that Sally burst into wild weeping. “Poor little darling!” Enid dropped to her knees beside Sally’s chair and took the girl’s cold, shaking hands in hers. “We all make mistakes, Sally. I’ve made more than my share. Maybe I’m getting old enough now to have a little wisdom. And I want to keep you from making a mistake that would cause both of us—and Court—untold sorrow.” “But I love David and I shan’t love anyone else,” Sally sobbed, though she knew her resistance was broken. “I’m forced to believe that now, darling,” Enid said gently. “And I shall not stand in the way of your happiness with him. That is not the mistake I meant.” “You mean that you’ll let me marry him?” Sally cried incredulously. “Oh, Mother! I love you so!” “And I love you, Sally.” Enid’s voice broke and she cuddled Sally’s cold hands against the velvety warmth of her own throat. “Your mistake would have been to run away to marry David. You have a mother and father now, Sally. You’re no longer a girl alone, as David called you. You have a place in society as our daughter, whether you want it or not. If David wants to marry you, he must come here to do so, must marry you with our consent and blessing.” “But—” Sally’s joy suddenly turned to despair again. “He wouldn’t marry a girl with a fortune. He told me so when he was here.” “That was when he was penniless himself,” Enid pointed out. “I’ve just read this newspaper story about his inheriting his grandfather’s farm. It’s a small fortune in itself, and since there’s no immediate danger of your inheriting either my money or Court’s, I don’t believe he will let your prospective wealth stand in the way—if he loves you.” “Oh, he does!” Sally laughed through her tears. “Look!” She snatched the newspaper from the floor and pointed to the last paragraph of the story about David. “He named his prize heifer after me! It says here his only sweetheart is ‘Sally’! Oh, Mother, I didn’t know anyone could live through such misery and such happiness as I felt today! I wanted to kill myself after Van—Oh!” “Tell me just exactly what he said to you!” Enid commanded, her lovely voice sharpened with anger and fear. When Sally had repeated the contemptuous, sneering speech as accurately as possible, her mother’s face, which had been almost ugly with anger, cleared miraculously.